


Displaced

by Kirsten



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Grief/Mourning, Hope, M/M, Recovery, Road Trips, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24290077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirsten/pseuds/Kirsten
Summary: Returning is a process. One month after taking Bebbanburg, Uhtred tries to reclaim what was his.
Relationships: Finan/Uhtred of Bebbanburg
Comments: 12
Kudos: 101





	Displaced

In Winchester, the Sabbath was a day of peaceful prayer and reflection, but in Bebbanburg it was marked by raucous, ale-fuelled laughter in the fortress courtyard. The sound of priests chanting in the small chapel at the southern end of the fortress was very faint, but it was there. Finan went to take his blessings from Father Aidan and did not resent the time spent on his knees, because in Uhtred’s Bebbanburg he knew the ale wasn’t going anywhere.

After the blessings, Aidan caught Finan’s eye. “Do you have a moment?”

“I do,” said Finan, “as long as you’re not planning to keep me from my ale too long, Father.”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “I am not. It is only, there is concern amongst some of the congregation that traders here conduct their business on the Sabbath. I know Lord Uhtred does not share our beliefs, but I wondered if—”

Finan put his hand on Aidan’s shoulder. “Say no more, Father. I’ll speak to him.”

“Bless you, Finan, my heart is at ease. In that case I shall return to my letter.”

“Who are you writing to?”

“To King Edward of Wessex,” said Aidan.

“And what do you tell him?” asked Finan, curious about Aidan’s view of the changes Uhtred had made to Bebbanburg. Aidan had been Aelfric’s priest and then Wihtgar’s, and both Uhtred and Finan had recognised him from Gisela's proxy marriage. None of these things had endeared him to Uhtred, and Finan had instructions to watch him.

But Aidan seemed genial enough. “I tell him that Bebbanburg is a safer and more prosperous place in Lord Uhtred’s hands," he said. "We trade with the Danes and even with the Scots, and our churches and our priests are not harried by them.” Aidan shook his head. He seemed a little rueful and bemused. “I would not have thought that this most holy land would be best guarded by a pagan.”

Finan chuckled. “The Lord’s ways are known only to himself. I’ll speak to Uhtred about the traders, Father. Now, I’m off to find the ale.”

The courtyard was filled with traders, half Danish, half Saxon, and a few enterprising Scots. Farmers from the villages inland entered through the southern gate with their beasts, and traders from as far away as Norway and Frankia came to unload their cargoes at the new docks. Swords and cloth were brought through the Seagate and up the steep, slippery steps to the courtyard, where the main trading took place; grain and hides made the opposite trip down to the sea.

It was a far cry from the weakened, miserable fortress Finan had spied upon when Uhtred’s turd of an uncle had the place. Then, dead bodies were left to rot outside the gates next to burned out buildings that had once been homes, while slaves were dragged in shackles down to the ships and their doom. 

But Uhtred had brought life back to Bebbanburg. New homes and workshops were constructed every day, and already the village had grown by twelve dwellings, growth that had not, according to Aidan, been seen since Aelfric took the fortress all those years ago.

And there were no slaves.

“What happens on the beaches and in the far corners of these lands, I cannot yet control without making enemies,” Uhtred had told the three of them the day after they took the fortress. “But I will not have slaves inside my walls. Sihtric, Osferth, you will make sure of it.”

“We will, Lord,” said Sihtric. Osferth had nodded his agreement, and Finan had silently thanked Uhtred for not giving the task to him.

Finan pushed his way through the crowd over to Osferth and Sihtric, who stood observing a game of chess over by the smith’s shop. “Gambling, baby monk? On a Sunday?”

“I am admiring their strategies,” said Osferth, primly, although he couldn’t keep a quick flash of guilt from his face.

“God knows the truth,” said Finan, and Sihtric laughed while Osferth rolled his eyes.

“Where are you going?” asked Sihtric. “My wife is roasting beef today, if you can stay.”

“You could tempt the devil, but I need to speak to Uhtred,” said Finan. “Father Aidan is worried that there is trading on the Sabbath. His priests are upset about it.”

“I have not noticed any trading today, but I will watch for it now. Uhtred is at the stables preparing his horse. He was looking for you. He plans a journey.”

“A journey?” Finan frowned. It could dangerous for a new lord to leave his home too soon, especially when that home had been taken by conquest and the land was unsettled. Although Uhtred wasn’t the average turd lord, fattening himself and hoarding silver while his people worked and starved. The country was now more peaceful than it had been in years.

Sihtric shrugged. “Yes. Do not worry,” he added. “We are here. Our men are here. We will not let this fortress be captured while he is gone.”

“As long as you don’t let it burn down,” said Finan, and went to find Uhtred.

Uhtred was indeed in the stables. He was checking the shoes on his horse and the straps of his saddle when Finan arrived. He wore his longsword on his back and his seax on his belt and looked every inch a warrior; in truth, Finan conceded silently, Uhtred no doubt could protect himself on the road, but the thought of being separated from him in this strange new land sat wrong in Finan’s belly.

“Lord,” said Finan, because the stable boy was there, “give me a few moments and I will be ready.”

“Finan,” said Uhtred, smiling. “I will wait. I was hoping you would come,” he added as he mounted his beast.

“You should have found me, or sent word,” said Finan, leading his favourite grey mare out into the yard alongside Uhtred’s big, black stallion. She was good-natured, calm in personality and calming in effect. Finan enjoyed riding her.

“You were at prayer.”

“That does not matter,” said Finan as he climbed into the saddle.

They set off through the courtyard and through the old gates, waving goodbye to Sihtric and Osferth as they went. The villagers entering the fortress for tomorrow’s trading made way for them as they went down the southern hill to the new, second set of gates in the extended walls. Many of them smiled and nodded at their new lord, and a woman called out, “God bless you, Lord Uhtred!”

Uhtred took the well-wishes with equal good humour, but he urged his horse into a gallop as soon as they passed through the gates and reached the bottom of the hill. Finan followed gamely as Uhtred turned away from the village and headed for the grassy sand dunes and beaches along the northern coast. It was a hard pace and Finan whooped with glee at the rush of cooler, fresher wind in his face; Uhtred glanced back over his shoulder and Finan saw that he was grinning.

They slowed as they made their way down onto the beach. Uhtred followed a faint, undulating path through the dunes. Each dune looked the same as the last. This landscape could confuse a man, Finan thought, as they dipped down into a gully and all landmarks fell away. The sound of the ocean was all around them, oddly muffled, with only the cries of gulls to break it.

Suddenly the horizon opened up again in front of them and they dropped down onto a beach, the cold northern sea to which they had given so much of themselves directly in front of them. It was almost mid-summer and the sea was not rough, turning over in neat waves onto the shore.

The sand was dry and pale and soft where they stood closer to the land’s edge, bright and glaring under the sun. Finan turned south and saw the great fortress on the rock, imposing and impregnable. To the north lay Lindisfearena and the monastery there; squinting, he could just make out the gentle lift of the horizon where the island lay in the distance.

Uhtred got down from his horse and led them over to an outcrop of dark rock. He sat and stared out over the water. 

Uhtred knew this place, Finan realised, although it did not seem to be a place of happy memories. He looked somehow younger, tired and more wounded, and Finan couldn’t stand it, had never been able to stand the sight of Uhtred’s pain. 

He got down from his horse and went to stand at Uhtred’s shoulder. “What is this place?”

Uhtred was silent for long moments, and Finan thought he was not going to answer. Then he said, quietly: “This is where I saw Earl Ragnar’s ships for the first time.”

Finan reached out and grasped Uhtred’s shoulder. He reacted without thought; his need to comfort Uhtred was instinctive by now. He was relieved when Uhtred only sighed and dropped his shoulders as some deep emotion left his body.

Finan sat down beside him on the rocks. “Were you afraid?”

Uhtred smiled wryly. “No,” he said. “It was exciting. In the beginning.”

Finan chuckled and bumped Uhtred’s shoulder with his own, though he knew a world of hard lessons existed beneath those words. “You were a bloodthirsty heathen even then, eh, little Osbert?”

“Not far from it,” Uhtred admitted. “Beocca despaired.”

Finan smiled to picture it, Uhtred as a skinny, a dark-haired boy full of spirit and mischief teasing his father’s priest about gods of war and thunder. Beocca had humour enough to face it, unlike some of the stricter and more strident priests Finan had known in Ireland and Wessex.

They sat in silence for a while, and then Uhtred heaved a sigh, got to his feet and went to his horse.

Finan followed. “Back to Bebbanburg?”

Uhtred shook his head. “I wish to go further north. Not far. We return tomorrow.”

“Why are you going to make us sleep on the cold, hard ground when there are soft beds and warm fires waiting for us at Bebbanburg?”

“We can build a fire,” said Uhtred. “And it is summer. The ground is not so cold.”

“One day I won’t go along with these madcap schemes of yours,” said Finan. Of course, that was a lie, and Uhtred knew it as well as Finan, and all he did was smile.

Uhtred led the way back up through the dunes, through the thick pale grasses that rustled with the wind and the brush of their horses’ legs, until they were back on solid ground and picking their way through the woodland of alder and oak and hawthorn that bordered the coast north of Bebbanburg, across earth that was more sand than soil. There was no road; only the wild country of Uhtred’s birth, with its rabbits and its foxes and its people, who were friendly and full of good humour in peace but were as wild as Danes when roused.

Uhtred seemed to be following some distant memory, for their pace was slow and measured. Finan watched him cast his eyes about for landmarks and so did the same, but there was only Bebbanburg and its great rock, with every step growing smaller and smaller on the horizon behind them.

Eventually the coastline turned inward, and the dunes fell away into a wide, sweeping bay that seemed to disappear into the distant sea. It was ripe with immense flocks of birds but was strangely silent, and Finan could not hear their calls. The bay’s size was deceptive, and the birds seemed closer than they were. Close to the land it was pure mudflat, although the highest tides must have reached it at some point in the past, as the mud was littered with seaweed and a dead seal had washed up near the shoreline. Its rotting corpse was heavy with flies.

“I remember this place,” said Uhtred. His voice was quiet, as if he too sensed the strangeness of the land around them. “We came this way when my mother took me to the holy isle as a child.”

“Is that where we’re going?”

Uhtred sighed. “No. I do not remember the path well enough to guide us across the sands. And I no longer know the tides.”

They paced steadily around the edge of the wet, muddy flats until they came upon a freshwater burn. Uhtred slid down from his horse and refilled his water pouch, then took Finan’s and did the same. Finan kept watch for threats, but there were none. No Saxons, no Danes, no sound of horses approaching. They might have been the only two men left in the world.

Finan took his water pouch back from Uhtred and slung it around his neck. “You come from a strange place, Uhtred.”

“My father Uhtred used to say that the land was strengthened with our family’s blood and bones,” said Uhtred, climbing back onto his horse. “It is what lords and kings always say to make their men fight for them instead of staying locked in their homes with their women and children.”

“That does not mean it is not true,” said Finan.

They turned away from the bay and wove their way through the forest. The ground was rising, although the footing was still good, and Finan patted his horse’s neck to keep her steady. She whickered in response and for some reason the noise made Finan’s stomach growl in sympathy.

“Tell me you brought food.”

“I did not,” said Uhtred, and to his credit he sounded a little rueful. “But I will find us a bird for our supper.”

“We could have been in those big kitchens back at Bebbanburg,” Finan grumbled. “There’s a cook there called Eawynn. God help me, Uhtred, if you could see that woman kneading bread with her big, strong hands—"

Uhtred laughed, and it was the first time Finan had heard Uhtred laugh since they had taken Bebbanburg in the shadows of the new moon. The battle had been fierce, but their men had survived it with only three losses. Uhtred had slain Wihtgar in an almighty fight that left Uhtred with a new scar above his left eye and Wihtgar with Uhtred’s sword in his heart. They had spent the night cheering and singing and drinking and feasting, and Finan had counted his blessings that Sihtric and Osferth too had come through it with cuts and bruises and not worse.

Uhtred had been subdued at the feast, although his satisfaction was fierce, and he had stood to leave sooner than Finan had expected. Finan started to follow, but Uhtred had pushed him back into his seat.

“Find a woman for the night,” Uhtred whispered in his ear, and so Finan had done just that.

Since then they had all been preoccupied by rebuilding and strengthening Bebbanburg’s defences before the next attack from the Scots, or the Danes, or even the unforgiving Christian Anglo-Saxons who resented their pagan lord. They had expected an attack almost immediately, while they were weakened and before they had a chance to settle, but Uhtred’s reputation was fearsome and its reach was vast. The villagers said that his enemies were wary of him – and rightly so, Finan thought. 

No man of sound mind wanted to fight Uhtred of Bebbanburg.

Even so, Uhtred had asked Finan to establish scouts and patrols across his lands, and Finan had set to the task with enthusiasm. The scouts reported relief and happiness at the deaths of Wihtgar and Aelfric across the country, and curiosity about and fear of Northumbria’s new lord. 

“Tell them he’s a fair man,” Finan told the scouts, “but they should never, ever fight him, or cross him. It will not end well for them if they do. Because first they’ll have to fight me.”

Uhtred had spent his time helping the men build the new defences and workshops, had met ealdormen and tradesmen and the women in the kitchen and the peasants who worked the fields. He knew men’s names and their crafts, as well as the names of their wives and children. He knew how much grain each village had for the winter, how much had been raided by the Scots and the Danes, and from where. He had barely left the fortress, except to survey the village below, and he had returned before the sun reached its height.

His dedication meant that his people in and around Bebbanburg were already loyal and would die for him if needed. Finan was not surprised that it was so. Uhtred breathed sincerity and strength. He had always inspired devotion in others.

His stomach rumbled again. “When are you going to get this bird?”

“I will get it when we have made camp.”

“And when will that be?”

“You are like a wife,” Uhtred groaned. “Soon. We camp there,” he added, and he pointed at a high ridge of dark rock jutting out over the landscape less than a mile away.

It did not take long to reach it. They looped around the base and came at it from the west, for the eastern face was too sheer for the horses. The trees thinned and the horses kept climbing, the land growing steeper with each step, and then suddenly they were out of the woodland and back into the open, with green grass and meadow flowers below, blue sky above, and the slowly sinking summer sun shining down on them.

From this vantage point, Northumbria stretched out for miles around. Finan could see Bebbanburg a few miles to the south, purple hills to the west, Scotland to the north, and the sea to the east. The land was peaceful. War seemed far away, but Finan knew that could change in an instant.

“I’ll post a lookout here,” Finan murmured. “A lookout, with a beacon.”

“That is a good plan,” said Uhtred. 

Uhtred went off to find their supper. He left his horse behind, and Finan busied himself with the fire. It was warm enough and dry enough to sleep in the open, although he would be glad to lie on the furs that Uhtred had thought to pack in a saddlebag.

It was not long before Uhtred returned with a fat female pheasant. He plucked it efficiently, feathers flying everywhere, then gutted and butchered it, spitted it neatly, and placed it over the fire to cook.

“That’s good work,” said Finan.

“See? I am not yet helpless.” Uhtred washed his bloody hands with water from his flask, then pulled another out of his saddlebag and tossed it to Finan. “Mead.”

“You are destined for sainthood,” said Finan, and Uhtred laughed again.

They laid down their weapons and sat side by side, looking out at the sea. The sun had finally set, and the twilight was rising up, but Finan already knew it would not become a true darkness. The sun’s glow would be with them all night.

Finan turned the pheasant slowly over the fire. “Why did you want to come here?”

Uhtred did not answer for a long time. Eventually, he said: “I need to know my lands again. I must belong to this place.” He spoke as if every word were dragged from the ocean depths. “But I was torn from here so long ago. And I think I do not know how,” he whispered, and his words had the weight of confession.

Finan could not let that go unchallenged. He wrapped his hand around Uhtred’s neck and dragged him close until their foreheads touched. He’d seen Uhtred do the same with his family countless times and he knew the gesture’s meaning. It was a meaning he stood by. 

“You already belong,” he murmured to Uhtred. “You belong with us – with me, and Sihtric, and Osferth. If you lost Bebbanburg tomorrow, you would still have us. You know we aren’t with you for power, or status. God knows it’s not for the silver,” he added, and Uhtred’s laugh whispered through the air between them.

He released Uhtred’s neck but clasped his shoulder instead and gave him a shake. “I know you’ve lost more than I can know, but you do belong. You are not alone, Uhtred. While I live, you never shall be.”

“Thank you, Finan,” Uhtred said. His voice was hoarse with emotion, and Finan knew he understood.

-

The fire crackled away, sparks flying up into the air and glowing bright orange against the darkening sky. Finan turned the pheasant until its skin was black and crisped dark brown, and when it was ready Uhtred cut thick slices from the breast for them to eat while the bird was still spitted.

“Finally,” said Finan, blowing on the meat to cool it. He took a bite, and juices ran down his chin and over his fingers. “Lord, that’s good.”

“The game is always good here,” said Uhtred, eating his own meat. “My father Uhtred had falcons. He would hunt with them.”

“Maybe you should get one,” Finan suggested. “Make a proper lord of yourself.”

Uhtred smiled and shook his head. “I do not know anything about hawking.”

Finan passed him the flask of mead. He drank, and then handed it back. The silence was companionable, although Uhtred still seemed weary. Finan cut another piece of meat from the pheasant. “Did you travel much in the western hills? Before?”

“No, I was too young. My father took my brother Uhtred on the wolf hunt, but Uhtred was much older than me. And my father was not fond of me.” Uhtred sighed. “He did take me to Gefrin once.”

“What’s Gefrin?”

“A village in the hills. It’s where the old kings ruled, before our family came here.” He cut another slice of meat. “I will have to visit before winter.”

“How long does it take to get there?”

“I do not know,” said Uhtred. “Time passes differently when we are young.”

There was a quiet thread of despair in his voice. Finan cursed himself, for he had missed the signs of Uhtred’s misery since their victory. This was not a glorious return. It was a slow, unceasing realisation of loss – the scale of it, and the impossibility of reclaiming what was long past.

Uhtred lay back on his furs. “You are so curious about my life, yet you rarely speak of your own.”

Finan shrugged. “The only thing I knew of my father was his fist. But I knew my mother, and I loved her. Even though she was always right,” and the memory made him laugh. “That woman would swear by the book the sky was green before ever admitting she was wrong.”

“Strong-willed,” Uhtred said with a smile. “A gift. She gave that to you.”

“She certainly did at that.”

“Did you have brothers? Sisters?”

“A brother. He was alive when Sverri took me for the slave ship. He may live still. I have not heard otherwise.”

“Do you never wish to return to Ireland?”

Finan tipped his head back and stared up at the stars. “I chose to leave my family long before I found myself on a slave ship. The Lord put me at your side for a reason. I trust in Him.”

“You could be with your family in a month or less,” Uhtred whispered, and Finan heard the unspoken longing beneath it.

“They walk their paths, and I have mine,” said Finan, and he rested his hand on Uhtred’s chest for a moment. It was a proprietary gesture, but Uhtred didn’t seem to mind. He huffed in amusement, distracted again from his grief as Finan intended, and Finan moved his hand away.

He looked out at the sea and thought of the slave ship, the rolling waves, the crack of the whip, and that endless pull, pull, pull. So much time had passed since those days when it seemed the suffering would never cease, when thick, black rage choked him of his breath. It was not easy to know God, in those moments, and it had taken him many years to find his way back to faith. Even now it was not unshakeable. It changed from one day to the next.

But he knew now that, when it came to constancy, he had been blessed. Without the slave ship, he would not have met Uhtred, a loyal and unwavering friend to the last and stubborn to the bone. Uhtred lived with a softer heart than most, generous with his love and his oath, and he and those who followed him had taught Finan kinder ways and brought better certainties to his life.

He lay down beside Uhtred and stared up at the many thousands of stars above, breathed in the peace of his place in the world. “For great is your love, reaching to the heavens; your faithfulness reaches to the skies,” he whispered to the Lord, overcome suddenly with gratitude for his path, pain and suffering be damned. If he died in this moment, he would die happy in his friendships and his faith, and proud of his part in their adventures. 

Uhtred shifted beside him. “Words from your holy book?”

“Yes.” Finan turned his head and found Uhtred watching him. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“You are the man I trust most in the world,” said Uhtred, in that brave, forthright way of his that was so inspiring, and so disarming. His voice was very low. “Who else would I bring?”

The fire crackled and the wind whispered through the trees below, but in that moment all Finan heard was the thumping of his own heart and all he saw was Uhtred. He surged forward and pressed his lips to Uhtred’s, could not have resisted the impulse for the slaver’s whip or a priest's exhortations or all the silver in the land. Finan had known sin. This was not it.

He pulled back when Uhtred tensed. He held his breath as Uhtred scanned his face, but Uhtred did not move away and so Finan kissed him again. He lifted his hand to cradle Uhtred’s jaw in his palm and stroke his thumb over Uhtred’s cheekbone, and he shivered when Uhtred’s hands crept to his waist and up to grasp his hair.

“We have not done this before,” said Uhtred. His mouth curved into a smile against Finan’s own, and Finan chuckled.

“We’ll do it again, if I have my way,” said Finan, and he rolled over to cover Uhtred with his body, pressing him down into the furs and the earth. He grasped Uhtred’s sword hand and held it tightly, and he slid his other arm under Uhtred’s shoulders to surround him and keep him close as they kissed. 

Uhtred allowed it, but he slipped his knee between Finan’s thighs and ground up against his crotch, grinning wickedly into the kisses Finan gave him.

“You will be the death of me,” Finan groaned, and he humped his hips down against Uhtred’s, seeking friction.

“A good death,” Uhtred said, and Finan laughed into Uhtred’s mouth, those tempting lips. Uhtred kissed him like a lover, but for Finan that was not enough, for they were more than lovers, their bond deeper than brothers. He had carried Uhtred’s burdens, and Uhtred had carried his; Finan was greedy for him, for this man who had always been so painfully, bravely human in the face of inhumanity. He kissed Uhtred to devour him, to take in his spirit. Love was not enough.

It was not rough. Finan squeezed Uhtred’s fingers where they held hands, and Uhtred’s thumb brushed over Finan’s wrist. Finan brought his other arm up from around Uhtred’s shoulders to caress Uhtred’s shaven head, to hold him in place by his hair. Uhtred groaned at the tug, and Finan wanted to hear more of that sound.

But it was not to be. Uhtred held Finan around his neck and gasped Finan’s name as his hips jerked, and Finan tore himself away from Uhtred’s lips and watched his eyes widen as he shook through his pleasure. Uhtred did not look away from him, gave Finan this most intimate trust, and Finan was shocked to reach his own peak in response. His hips thrust hard against Uhtred’s, once, twice, once more, and then Finan collapsed on top of him with breathless laughter.

Uhtred laughed, too. “We are like boys again,” he said, chagrined, and Finan laughed once more.

“That was your fault,” he said. He pressed his face to Uhtred’s neck and kissed beneath his ear and under his jaw, licked to taste the salt of his sweat, still hungry for him. “You needed it, though. Lord, Uhtred, you could have had all the women at Bebbanburg by now.”

Uhtred wrapped his arms around Finan’s shoulders again, holding him close. “You know that is not my way.”

Finan looked down at him, full of affection for Uhtred and their friendship. “Not for a few years, anyway.”

Uhtred hummed in agreement, and Finan reached up and stroked Uhtred’s cheek. He smiled helplessly when Uhtred grinned, and then oofed in surprise as Uhtred flipped him so that his back was pressed into the furs warmed by Uhtred’s body.

Uhtred kissed him languidly and playfully ground his hips against Finan’s sticky, sensitive groin. Finan groaned, but he knew anything more was beyond them both, and he did not protest when Uhtred’s kisses slowed and slowed and then stopped, and Uhtred lay down and rested his head against Finan’s chest.

They lay silently for a while. Finan listened for horses, the crack of a twig breaking under an enemy’s foot, but he heard only the sounds of the summer in the fading night. The trees below them rustled in the wind, the dying fire crackled its last breaths, and gulls squawked out to one another overhead. The sky was already lighter than it had been.

“Do not die before me,” Uhtred murmured into the quiet, and it was more plea than command. Finan knew it did not come from weakness, some break in Uhtred’s spirit, but from his exhaustion in the face of loss, and his endless, constant love.

He wrapped his hand in Uhtred’s hair and bade him lift his head so that their eyes could meet.

“We are bound, you and I,” he said, keeping Uhtred’s gaze fixed on his own. “You have had my oath since I saw you shield Halig from the whip with your own back. And you have been mine to protect since I saw you weep for him.”

“I do not need protection,” Uhtred protested.

“Not in battle,” Finan agreed, and Uhtred flushed and looked away as if shamed. 

Finan waited until Uhtred met his eyes once again. “I go wherever you go,” Finan told him. “In this life and the next.”

Uhtred said nothing in response, but his eyes were wet, and he gripped Finan’s hand and stretched up to press an ardent kiss to his lips.

-

He kept watch while Uhtred slept. It was a fair turn for all the times Uhtred had stood night-long watches over his men so that they could rest. Uhtred’s sleep was deep and seemed dreamless, Gisela’s name for once not on his lips, and he barely stirred when Finan shifted him so that he lay curled up on the furs at Finan’s side.

Finan passed the time cleaning his sword. The rhythmic sweep of cloth up and down the blade kept him focused as he listened and watched for danger. He heard the howl of a far-away wolf, the cry of a fox, the dawn chorus of field birds growing louder and louder, and then the sun was rising over the sea and the sky abruptly became bright yellow and golden, and turned all the world into a treasure.

“Lord, I arise today through the strength of heaven,” Finan murmured and put aside his sword to simply stare.

Beside him, Uhtred stirred. “Finan?”

“I’m here,” said Finan. He stroked a gentle hand across Uhtred’s shoulder. “You can rest longer. Sihtric and Osferth have not burned Bebbanburg. I would’ve seen it.”

Uhtred shook his head. He stretched and groaned, then sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. He seemed frustrated with himself, and Finan realised that Uhtred did not sleep easily in Northumbria. He was surrounded by his oldest, deepest grief, and while it had been long-buried, that grief was now disturbed. 

“Do you dream of your English family?”

Uhtred nodded, and Finan sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, dragging him close. He thought about little Uhtred watching from Bebbanburg’s ramparts as Earl Ragnar threw down his brother’s head, about Uhtred being dragged off in slavery and then raised and loved by that same man. Uhtred had loved Earl Ragnar, Finan knew, and it was incomprehensible, it was perverse – Uhtred would not be Uhtred without Earl Ragnar, and so Finan gave thanks for the man, because without Uhtred, Finan would have been tossed overboard with the shit, or survived to see his way through a loveless, purposeless life.

But Finan did not waste time thinking about a life that might have been. They were in Northumbria, they had claimed back Uhtred’s home, and he sat with Uhtred in the dawn, with Uhtred safe and warm and strong in his arms.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened to you,” he told Uhtred, because he felt it needed to be said. “But I am glad we’re here together, now.”

“As am I,” said Uhtred, and he hid his face in Finan’s neck.

They stayed on the hilltop for a while longer and broke their fast with the remaining pheasant. Uhtred gave Finan the last of the mead, and then they lay back amongst the meadow flowers. The sky was another brilliant blue above them with not a cloud to be seen and a barely-there breeze. It was so peaceful, and Finan was so content with his life that he could not bring himself to move.

“Part of me does not wish to return,” said Uhtred after a while.

“I feel the same,” said Finan, and brushed his fingers against Uhtred’s. “Although I also feel I need to wash,” he added. He picked at the crotch of his trousers, and Uhtred dissolved into giggles like a child.

“I could not help myself,” he finally chuckled. “You made me enjoy it too much. I enjoyed being yours,” he added, “for a little while.”

“You are always mine,” said Finan. “You’ve been mine for years. We will do that again.”

Uhtred smiled, and he kicked Finan’s foot.

They packed up their camp and kicked over the fire, and then Uhtred led them back down the hill, past the burn and the bay, until they came to a beach. It was different to the beach they had visited the day before, with no rock outcrops and more of the grass-covered sand dunes that were so common on this coast.

They rode right down to the water’s edge, then stripped off their armour and tunics and waded out wearing only their trousers until they were chest deep. Their backs bore the same scars, and Finan traced a pale line across Uhtred’s spine with his fingers, until Uhtred dipped his head beneath the surface and re-emerged behind Finan, splashing him with water.

“I will not be drawn into this,” said Finan, and Uhtred laughed.

Finan had disliked bathing in sea water since the slave ship. It would do until they returned to Bebbanburg and Finan could wash with clean, fresh water drawn from the well. And it was worth it, when Uhtred pulled him close and kissed him, to taste the salt and sea air on Uhtred’s lips and skin.

But for all it was summer, the northern sea was still frigid, and they did not linger. They dressed quickly. Finan stole glances at Uhtred’s strong body, curious and aroused by the thought of possessing it. Uhtred smiled and stole his own glances, as if he knew the direction Finan’s thoughts had taken – and he probably did, Finan thought, for Uhtred knew Finan as well as Finan knew Uhtred. They had known each other when they had nothing, not even their strength. It was right that they knew each other’s pleasure, too.

“And now we return,” said Uhtred, when they were once again mounted on their horses. He did not look happy about it.

The ride back to Bebbanburg was as quiet as the ride out. Perhaps more so, as Uhtred’s restless, uncertain spirit seemed more at peace. Finan hoped Uhtred felt more at home in this place, for it was his home, had been his home even through his years of separation from it, when Bebbanburg had seemed nothing more than a dream, a place that could not be.

Uhtred halted when the village came into view, nestled around the base of the rock. Finan watched him raise his eyes to the fortress, more imposing than ever since the fortifications had gone up around the sheer cliff edge. He looked shocked, as if he could not believe where he stood, what he saw or what he owned.

“You did it,” said Finan, coming alongside him. “It was taken from you and you have taken it back. It is yours and it is your home.”

“Yes,” murmured Uhtred, but his eyes were now on Finan, and not on the fortress on its rock.


End file.
